


The Curse of Blood

by Order_Of_The_Forks



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Suicide Attempt, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tree Bros, Tree Bros AU, carrie au, carrie spoilers?, people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Order_Of_The_Forks/pseuds/Order_Of_The_Forks
Summary: When a prank at prom goes disastrously wrong, outcast Connor Murphy unleashes chaos on everything and everyone in his path.





	1. The Beginning

Evan hated gym class.

He felt like no matter how hard he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t gasping for air, there was always a neon sign above his head declaring “SHOOT ME, PLEASE!”

A giant cloud proclaiming “PUT ME OUT OF MY PAIN!”

He had never been the active type. When Evan was younger, his mom would sign him up for any sport she could find, hoping he would find something he enjoyed. He didn’t.

Instead, Evan suffered in silence as his teammates passed the ball back and forth, completely ignoring his presence on the field. They had only won two out of the seven scrimmages total, something that seemed okay to Evan but turned out was awful for his other team members. It didn’t help that they were down a player, as Connor Murphy had excused himself for a bathroom break five minutes into class and hadn’t returned.

So Evan followed the ball back and forth across the court, trying to fake activity. Miss Gardner had decided it was ninety’s pop day, and Take On Me was blasting throughout the gym. 

Everything felt bad. There was a nagging feeling at the back of Evan’s head that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Like he was going to turn on the TV to find out that World War 3 had started or someone would burst into the gym with a gun and mow them all down. Granted, Evan’s anxiety very frequently provided him with vivid scenarios of school shooters and car accidents and horrific deaths. But he still felt… off.

Something was coming, that was for sure. 

The ball hit the floor next to Evan’s foot. One kid grabbed it with an indignant scoff. “Jesus, Hansen. Just play for the other team, why don’t you?”

Evan stepped back and tried to ignore the churning in his gut.

The lights flickered overhead.

Take On Me faded out and Miss Gardner blew her whistle, making everyone flinch at the shrill noise. “Good game, everyone. Hit the showers, kids!”

Evan followed the horde of teens streaming into the locker rooms, same as every gym class. Instead, however, of being greeted by the casual din of the boy’s showers, he was met with a high-pitched shriek.

The locker room fell silent. Someone called out, “this is the boy’s locker room, honey!”

The boy who had screamed, presumably, kept stuttering. Eventually, he was able to choke out a single phrase; “someone get Miss Gardner!”

That was what made the crowd shift. The kids lurched forward with one mind. Someone else screamed. More murmurs spread through the crowd along with a thick, metallic scent that made Evan’s stomach do somersaults. “Get Miss Gardner!” echoed throughout the small cement locker room.

One boy eventually broke away, bursting through the crowd and running out to find the teacher, his face horrified and slightly green. Evan could hear garbled snippets of conversation through the door. 

“It’s Connor, come quick!”

Miss Gardner came barreling through the doors, pushing aside the crowd to get to the site of the excitement. Evan could see a pool of red gathering around the boys’ sneakers.

“Everybody out!” Miss Gardner yelled. “Sam, call 911!”

The kids came flooding out of the room, their faces panicked. Inside, there was the sound of glass breaking, and the light leaking from underneath the door was extinguished. Evan’s heart was pounding at 150 decibels, the metallic smell of blood choking him.

They waited outside the locker room, sweaty and scared and laughing nervously, as it was the only thing left to do.

A harsh beep came over the loudspeaker, followed by the principal declaring a ‘shelter in place’, announcing that there was a medical emergency and for everyone to stay where they were until the situation was dealt with.

In a few minutes, ambulances appeared at the school. The boys parted like the Red Sea as paramedics came in and out of the locker room, carrying first aid kits and machines and devices Evan couldn’t name if he tried. Eventually, the door opened and the paramedics wheeled a stretcher out of the dark locker room.

Connor Murphy lay on the stretcher, covered in glistening red blood. He was too tall for the stretcher, and his feet dangled over the edge, his boots’ untied laces dripping blood onto the floor and swaying with the movement of the stretcher like snakes. The smell emanated so strongly from him that Evan was sure he would puke. 

There were titters from behind Evan. Someone whispered, “Goner Murphy.”

The bell rang and everybody stayed glued where they stood. A frazzled Miss Garner came out of the locker room. “Can anybody help me clean up the broken glass in here? One of the lightbulbs blew.”

Nobody moved. “I-I can,” Evan offered. After all, this was his fault, wasn’t it? He knew something was wrong and he didn’t say anything. The least he could do was clean up the mess. 

“Thank you.” Said Miss Gardner, who breathed a sigh of relief. “Everybody- don’t bother with changing. Just go to your next class.”

The students slowly dispersed, chattering amongst themselves. 

Evan followed Miss Gardner into the locker room, where a broom and a mop was thrust into his hands. Inside was truly a horrid sight.

Blood was pooled on the floor, all coming from a single shower stall. All around the room, the lights flickered like the aftermath of a storm. “That’s odd,” Miss Gardner noted. “They were all off before.”

Above the bloody shower, the light had completely blown. Glass was shattered on the floor underneath and the ceiling was scorched around where the bulb used to be. Evan swallowed his disgust and started to mop up the blood next to Miss Gardner. This blood came from a student. A student his age. Connor Murphy, a social pariah to rival Hester Prynne. Since Evan could remember, Connor had been an outcast. In second grade, he threw a printer at a teacher and even into middle school people still rumored that they had just seen the printer fly off the desk and hit the teacher on its own accord.

Miss Gardner began to pick up the glass shards, placing them gingerly into a plastic trash bag. Evan dipped the mop into the bucket of water, which immediately stained the water a deep red in a sickening concoction. Evan’s throat clenched.

“I’m going to toss this in the trash.” Miss Gardner lifted the trash bag, the glass clinking. “Thank you for doing this.”

Evan only nodded.

Take On Me was stuck in his head, and Evan wanted to blow his brains out. He just kept mopping.

Above him, the lights flickered on, humming in that way that school lights did. 

He noticed a gleam caught underneath the moldy plastic shower curtain. With shaking fingers, Evan pushed aside the curtain and picked up the object. It was a knife, maybe five inches long. One of the kinds that folded closed. The wooden handle was stained a deep mahogany. Engraved in the bloody wood was a silver monogram.

CEM.

Connor E. Murphy, Evan realized. Probably a gift. Who would give someone a knife as a gift?

“Evan? Are you still in here?”

Evan, in a panic, pocketed the knife, ignoring the wave of nausea that rushed over him. A bloody knife in pocket. It was third period and the day was going great.

They worked in silence until the shower was relatively clean. Miss Gardner dismissed Evan, promising that she would finish cleaning. Evan wandered through the halls, clutching the yellow hall pass in his hand and flashing it to any teacher who looked at him as he passed.

In his history class, someone had written ‘Goner Murphy’ on the whiteboard.

Alana Beck, who sat next to him, leaned over to Evan’s desk. “Do you know what that means? Is it supposed to be a joke about Connor? Because it’s not even a very good pun.”

Evan wanted to answer, he really did. Alana was the kind of girl who would know exactly what to do. There would be no turmoil in Alana’s head. She would’ve handed in the knife, not stolen it. The pressure of the knife against Evan’s skin was overwhelming. “Connor… he, um, he got hurt? In gym.”

Alana frowned. “That’s awful.” She pointed at Evan’s legs. “Is that what...”

Evan looked down to see dark red stains on his khakis, horrid red circles on his knees. “Oh. Oh-oh, god. I need to-” Evan stood up in a hurry, trying to get out of the class before anybody else saw.

“Cold water!” Alana called after him. “I’ll explain your absence!”

Evan ran to the nearest bathroom, where he frantically scrubbed at the stains on his pants with (cold water soaked) paper towels. Two boys were smoking by the window. They had looked at him weirdly when he walked in, but otherwise continued their conversation.

“Eighty bucks for a suit?” One griped, flicking cigarette ash out the window. “Damn, we better get laid.”

The other one scoffed. “It’s the least we deserve.”

Right. Prom. 

Zoe, Evan’s girlfriend, had to ask him. They had been dating for about a month, and Evan couldn’t even really remember how they had gotten together. He was pretty sure it was an English project. 

Zoe said Evan’s awkwardness was endearing. Zoe said his style was cute. Zoe shone like a star from wherever she was, a beacon of light. They had gone shopping the weekend before. She had a soft blue dress and Evan had a tie to match. They were an adorable couple, that was sure. 

Evan really would’ve preferred to stay in and watch a movie. He even would’ve let Zoe watch one of the Stephen King movies she loved so much, even though they gave him nightmares. But she had insisted on prom, and it was too late to back out. 

Evan took out the knife and unfolded it, the long blade caked with dried blood. He ran the knife under the faucet, watching the clot fall off and get stuck in the drain. The blade gleamed. It was exceptionally clean for a blood-covered knife and had probably never even been used before.

The intrusive thoughts in the back of his mind told him to take the knife and plunge it into his stomach. Or one of the boys’ chests. 

Was Evan a mess? Yes.

Totally insane.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family troubles.

Only about a few days later, Connor Murphy came back to school. 

He was wearing a baggy grey pullover sweatshirt, his hair matted with purple bags under his eyes.

At this point, word had spread that Connor had slit his wrists in the locker room during gym class faster than the black plague.

All eyes followed Connor as he walked to his locker. 

It was clear which one was his; amongst the plain blue was a single locker with the words ‘GONER MURPHY’ scrawled on it with something that looked suspiciously un-like red paint. 

Connor simply sighed and turned to the combination lock. Three times he tried to open the lock, pounding on the locker door with a closed fist, the red lettering smearing on his pale skin. He started to attack the locker, kicking and kicking and kicking. 

After a tense few seconds, the lock popped open and Connor shoved his books into his bag. He pushed his way through the crowd of students. Gone was the stony, intimidating demeanor Connor was so infamous for. Instead, he was weak and gaunt. He was positively skeletal. His long brown hair was stringy and flat. It was a deep, rich brown but somehow completely without color. Acne scars marred his face and neck. He looked the part of the sacrificial goat, an easy mark, a perpetual foul-up, and he was.

At lunch, Zoe and Evan eyed Connor from their table. He sat alone on the steps outside, seemingly indifferent to the drizzling rain. 

Jared Kleinman and his best friend, Chris Hargensen, made faces at Connor through the window.

“I-I can’t believe him.” Evan poked at his salad. “Jared used- he was nice. I can’t believe he’s being such a… an a-ass. And-and Chris. Why is he so mean?”

“C’mon, he’s just being Chris. He’s always been like this.” Zoe seemed to have no trouble eating, despite her brother being taunted outside. “It’s just boys being stupid.”

“You-you didn’t see it. Connor was hurt. They were being- they were teasing.” 

Zoe frowned. “Well, maybe Connor deserved it. I mean, it’s not like he’s ever done anything to make himself less of a target.”

Evan bit his lip to stop from protesting. Connor tried to kill himself, he wanted to yell. How dare they be such assholes to a kid who was so hurt already? How could you be so indifferent to your own brother’s pain?

But then she would break up with him and Evan would have to beg Jared to let him be friends with him again just so that he wouldn’t be so helplessly alone. 

“Freak!” Jared mouthed through the window. 

Evan would rather be alone than be friends with Jared again. 

“I can’t wait ‘till you see my dress,” Zoe said, spooning yogurt into her mouth. 

Evan nodded but kept his eyes on Jared. “Mhm.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I, um…” Evan took one last look out the window. “I just- shouldn’t he be, um, in a hospital? Or at least, like, therapy or something?”

“My parents don’t believe in therapy.” Zoe watched the yogurt drip off her spoon and plop back into the plastic container, making a sickening noise with each glob that fell. “They somehow managed to get him out of the hospital early. I mean, he wasn’t in serious condition. It was just that he lost blood.”

Evan nodded with disbelief. “Huh.”

“So, are you excited for prom?”

 

~

 

After school, Evan waited on the steps outside for his mom to pick him up for therapy. 

Jared skateboarded back and forth on the sidewalk, laughing with Chris, who tried to push him off. 

Connor emerged from the building, earbuds in and head down. 

“Hey, buddy!” Chris hollered at him. When Connor looked up, Chris made a motion to take out the earbuds. Connor begrudgingly removed one. “You’re a real fucking failure, you know that?”

If eyes were the windows to the soul, Connor should’ve been in a morgue. His eyes were glassy and dull, completely apathetic.

Jared laughed. “Freak,” he added, although his jab was slightly more awkward than the other.

Connor put in his earbuds and kept walking. Jared skated over. “Did you hear me, freak?”

He stood, motionless, in the middle of the sidewalk, fists clenched. Jared’s cocky grin faltered. “It was a joke.”

“Yeah, no, it was funny.” 

It was the first time Evan had heard Connor speak all day. His voice was beaten down and hollow. 

“Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” Connor said, turning to face his tormentor. Evan could swear there was something in his eyes, a gleam that he couldn’t place. The air seemed to crackle with electricity. 

Jared pushed his skateboard away from Connor. “Shit, dude. You don’t have to go all psycho on me.”

At this point kids had started to gather to watch it all unfold. 

“I’m not the freak, you’re the fucking freak!” Connor yelled, and something snapped. Evan felt his ears pop.

Jared’s skateboard bucked under him, sending him tumbling off onto the hard concrete sidewalk. He got up and walked back to his friend with the skateboard tucked under his arm, not willing to get back on after his ignominious defeat. 

The onlookers laughed. It wasn’t incredibly malicious laughter; it was awkward, schadenfreude laughter.

Connor walked on. As he passed under a streetlamp, it flickered on and off. 

“The freak tripped me!” Jared protested, pointing an angry finger at Connor’s retreating back.

But they had all seen; no such thing had happened.

Someone next to Evan did the standard ‘loser’ cough. 

Chris turned to face the audience of teens. “What the fuck are you all looking at?” 

“Your loser boyfriend!” One boy supplied.

Jared’s face burned. 

“Show’s over, folks!” Chris yelled to the world. “Go hassle the freak, why don’t you? 313 Cedar Crest Road!” 

Connor was out of sight by then. The crowd dispersed dubiously. As if on cue, Evan’s mom pulled up to the curb. 

Evan hesitated before opening the passenger side door. He wanted to say something to Jared. 

‘Make sure to put something on your scrapes so they don’t get infected.’

‘Please don’t tease Connor.’

Or even just a ‘remember me?’

But he bit his tongue and climbed into the car, dodging his mother’s questions about the day. When the car passed by Connor walking, he could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes.

Of course, when he got home, his mom tried to make conversation for the first time in what seemed like months.

She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter, eyeing Evan in the doorway as if daring him to walk away. “So. How’re you doing?”

“Good,” Evan managed. He wasn’t good. He was pretty sure that if someone answered a ‘how are you doing’ with an automatic ‘good’, that meant that they were far from it.

Heidi tapped her close-cropped fingernails against the glass. “I, um, I heard a boy tried to kill himself at school?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m here if you need to talk, you know.”

But you’re not, Evan wanted to scream. You’re never home. You’re never here.

“Yeah.”

The kitchen was quite for a couple beats. “Were you there? I heard it was during a gym class.”

“No. No, no, I wasn’t. It was a different gym class.”

“Okay.” Heidi gnawed at her lip. “It’s just- there was blood on your pants the other day.”

“Oh.” Of course she would’ve seen the pants in the laundry. Why had he even lied? “I. Um. I fell down.”

She was quiet again. Evan was pretty sure she saw right through his lie. It wasn’t a very good one, after all. Heidi opened her mouth and took a quick breath, as if preparing to speak, then took a sip of water instead.

“Did you know him?” She said, barely audible. 

“No. No.” Evan frowned. “I knew of him, but- no.”

“Knew of him?”

“He’s…” Evan didn’t know how to describe the infamy of Connor. “I don’t know.”

“Huh. Well, if you want to talk, I’m here.” 

There it was again. It was an indisputable fact that his mother was never home. If Evan ran away, it would probably take Heidi a good few days to realize, as long as Evan texted her periodically. 

“Yeah.”

“You know, I’m home. Let’s make a night of it. I’ll make a frozen pizza and we’ll watch some TV, hm? I’ve been wanting to watch season two of the America Horror Show.”

“American Horror Story,” Evan corrected. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Heidi took her son’s hands in her own. “The point is, I’m here. And we can talk and watch TV and everything we don’t get to do when I’m out.”

“Fine.”

 

~

 

“And I mean, we did go shopping together, but he didn’t actually see me in it.” Zoe poked at her cauliflower. “So he still has yet to see me in my dress. Oh, I can’t wait!”

“That’s exciting, honey.” Cynthia said. 

“Did you get invited to prom, Connie?” Zoe asked, faking innocence as she batted her eyelashes to her stewing brother across the table. 

“Don’t be childish,” Cynthia scolded. “Let’s try to have a civil conversation for once.”

“Yeah,” Connor grumbled. “Let’s.”

Larry frowned. “Well, you had better not stay out too late. Come hell or high water, we are not missing mass. Reverend Jim is preaching about the nature of lust, and I intend to be there.”

“Evan’ll have me home by midnight.” 

Cynthia tutted into her wine glass. “You never know how those boys will behave.”

“I beg your pardon,” Larry interrupted. “I was always a gentleman.”

“Tell that to Sarah Hapsburg,” Cynthia snorted, taking another large sip of wine. 

Larry’s face turned steely. Before Cynthia had even put the glass down, he snatched it out of her fingers. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Do I have to go?” Connor asked, moving his green beans around on his plate. 

“Yes, Connor.” Larry frowned. “Your mother has let you skip too many services. The Reverend is worried about you.”

“Maybe he should be.”

There was a thick, palpable smog of awkwardness in the air. “You’re going to church on Sunday and that’s that.”

“Motherfucker!” Connor slammed his fork down. “Don’t any of you care about what I want?”

“We care about you, honey.” Cynthia said softly, staring down at her hands.

“Tell that to my face, why don’t you?” Connor retorted. His voice was raspy. If he was any louder, he would be shouting. He knew how they hated when he shouted. Connor lowered his voice to a harsh stage whisper. “Say it to my fucking face.”

“Connor Lawrence Murphy.” Larry stood up from his chair, towering over the table. “Calm down now.”

“No!” Connor stood up to match him. He reveled in the few inches of height he had over his father. “You don’t care about me anyway! You just care about fucking Jim and what he thinks. What, are you blowing the Reverend behind the church? Is that why you care so much?”

“That’s it!” Larry stormed around the table to Connor’s seat and grabbed him by the arms. “Heaven has no place for people like you. You need to take time to reevaluate your life.”

Connor couldn’t stop the involuntary scream that forced its way out of his throat. “No!”

He could feel the walls closing in already. Connor thrashed against his father’s grip, trying to break free. Maybe if he hadn’t skipped gym so many times he would be able to escape, but he was weak and overwhelmed and didn’t stand a chance. The last time he had been in there… the scars on his arms ached just thinking of it. 

Larry unlocked the door to the closet and pushed him in, holding a bible out for Connor to take. In a final act of desperation, Connor lunged at the open door, where he was met with the cold leather of the bible and a searing pain across his face. The door closed.

It was dark in the closet. There were 38 crosses and crucifixes affixed to the walls, surrounding Connor like an omnipresent fleet. As long as he had lived- as long as he had been a problem child- the closet and its army of Jesuses were there, rigid and soldier-like in their pain.

Connor clasped his hands and began to pray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup fam  
> so yeah comment and kudos and all that lovely business

**Author's Note:**

> hey. this is, if you haven't noticed, a Carrie au.
> 
> It follows the plot pretty closely, save for some stuff. Listen to the soundtrack. A lot of the dialogue is going to be coming from it. At least google the plot.


End file.
